Ashes To Flame
by PalmTreeBlood
Summary: (Renamed from Tol-Ereb) Eruanne is the head horse-and-stables for Rivendell's Lord Elrond, an unusually occupation for a girl, but when she meets Legolas she turns out to be more different than anyone could imagine.
1. Tol Ereb

Disclaimer: All that you recognize is J.R.R. Tolkien's or Peter Jackson's. Everything else is my creation. This sole disclaimer stands for all of the chapters in this story.  
  
Authors Note: This is my first Lord of the Rings, okay, my first-ever fanfiction so (I know you probably have heard this line a million times at least, but please bear with me) please be nice and review. And if you really think that the story is crap and you hate it please review and tell me what you don't like so I can fix it okay? Because there is no point in flaming and say "I hate your story" without telling the person what they're doing wrong because that's just leaving them in the dark. But enough rambling on about flames, I'm going onto the story.  
  
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Ashes to Flame  
  
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"Eruanne," a voice whispered, "Eruanne you must wake now." A hand gripped her shoulder in accompaniment to the voice, shaking her gently.  
  
"Oh for love, leave be!" Eruanne moaned sleepily in response, though her hair was already pushing her messy hair away from her brown eyes and behind her pointed ears. It seemed like it was only a moment ago that she had fallen desperately into her rumpled covers, exhausted. Eruanne sat up heavily, her linen nightgown bunched up around her knees. "What are you doing in here?" She complained sleepily to Niphredil, the elf that stood before her, fully dressed in the day's working garments of a brown dress with a full linen underdress.  
  
"I am here to wake up you," Niphredil replied mock-condescendingly. "It is almost dawn and you had not awoken, bathed, dressed or eaten yet!" Eruanne rose sleepily herself out of bed, and walked slowly to the bathing chamber that her and Niphredil shared. Her hands eased herself out of her clothing and slipped into the bath, cleansing herself and her hair in almost an instant.  
  
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The carved bathroom door swung open to reveal Eruanne fully dressed a masculine version of the same outfit as Niphredil, hair twisted and wound up into knot pinned to the back of her head. Niphredil leapt up from the bed where she had been lounging in wait.  
  
"Your breakfast is there on the wardrobe, I brought it up from the kitchen, since I knew that you dawdled in the bath." Eruanne did not reply, simply turned to silver platter and began to busily eat a pastry filled with berries.  
  
"Let us depart," She delicately wiped the red sauce of a berry from her lips with a fingertip as Niphredil rolled her eyes. Eruanne just grinned recklessly and opened the door.  
  
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Click clack click clack, Eruanne's feet usually made no noise, except in these cursed stable boots where the lowliest orc could here her coming. She paused at the last stall, about to read the title hanging above the door, but there was none. Frowning, she strode off into the great, clothbound book that records the stable's occupants. She flipped rapidly through a book's pages, the thin slips of paper slipping through her fingers, muttering under her breath. 'Ah yes, the delegation comes from Mirkwood today at dusk; the space is reserved for his Highness, Prince Legolas' horse.'  
  
Eruanne breathed a sigh; she really did not have a preference where the horse was housed, for both the stables and pastures were more that adequate. But Eruanne was sure that the horse would had been given the decision it would have chosen the pasture over the stable for the weather was fair and pastures here at rivendellrivendellRivendell were the grasses lush and long. They presented a breathtaking view of the river and its canyon walls, with Rivendell's delicate curving buildings arching over the spraying waterfalls.  
  
Yet soon all thoughts of the pastures on the cliffs deserted her head when she heard a single, terrified neigh from the barn. She spun quickly, losing grip on her cup of rosenberry tea, it fell to the floor, the teacup shattering and its contents seeped into the floor of her office while she ran to the barn, staining the seamless wood floor red.  
  
The stallion reared again, hoofs scrabbling against the handsome cobblestone of the floor, while his mane tossing with the frantic gestures of his noble brown head. Several elves cornered the beast again one side of the stable where the hay was stacked, ropes looped around the horse's legs and necks, pulling at them as the muscles in their arms bulged with effort.  
  
"What is the name of devilry is going on here?!" Eruanne thundered, distressed almost beyond words by the sight that met her eyes. She was usually a quiet she-elf to all but her closest friends and family, such as Niphredil, but now she would not stand for what she saw going on right in front of her very eyes.  
  
Durien glanced back at her with a flash a golden-brown hair. "The animal," he cocked an eyebrow, "is my new horse, and he needed to be subdued, it was causing a disturbance." He finished smoothly, and taking one last long blue- eyed look up and down Eruanne's figure in her tunic and breeches went back to directing the men. The words "No, NO! I said not to-" before Eruanne cut him off.  
  
"Couldn't you just talk TO HIM?" Eruanne forcefully replied.  
  
Durien then turned all the way around and took two steps closer, lowering his handsome face to hers. ""Avo pedo!" " he snarled, hot breath heating up Eruanne's face, however, she was not intimidated. Since she accepted this command from her Lord Elrond over two centuries ago occasionally male elves would come and try their utmost to intimidate her but she learned to harden herself against their cruel words.  
  
Durien was a different matter, not only was he being rude to her, he was doing something she had never seen a sane elf do, he was going against his very nature by roping a horse that should have come freely to him, this time he had also dragged other elves down into the mire he had created. Taking one last ugly look at her face he strode back to directing.  
  
"Release the ropes." She ordered in a deadly calm voice, authority radiating all the way solid stance and hands on her hips to her bright, angry eyes.  
  
"Carry on!" Durien called in an attempt to overrule her. He would not be shown up by some she-Elf out of place. Horse taming was a male's job and she had no business being here.  
  
"Release the ropes." Again Eruanne's command went unnoticed. Her heart tore when she heard the horse's desperate whinny and she shoved past Durien, despite his protests and walked towards the stallion. Legs stepping gracefully over the twisting and thrashing ropes she approached the stallion. Speaking all the while in soft, lullaby tones, she recited an elvish poem. The horse could not understand the meaning exactly but got the whole concept. 'Calm down, hush now.' She ran her fingers down its warm neck, feeling the smooth hairs against her fingertips, and ever so gently she slipped the rough rope from around its trembling neck and legs. Giving the horse a final scratch she turned around and carefully stepped away from the animal before beginning her rebuke.  
  
"Durien! What on Middle Earth possessed you to give this barbaric treatment to this animal? You act like a man, and not the elf that the Ilúvatar created. You may not work in my service with these stables, but you follow the rules that I maintain here just the same. And the rest of you are worse, most you have worked at these stables with me for over a century, and yet you put no thought into what your actions do? You simple follow his instructions?" She finished her sentence quietly, but the softness of her voice was almost more terrifying than the loud tones she usually used.  
  
Most of the elves bowed their heads in shame, and whispered a heartfelt apology to the horse that stood still white-eyed in the corner. Most felt deep remorse for their actions, yet Durien tossed his hair in absolute unconcern, smoothing down the embroidery that decorated his clothes.  
  
He was technically of higher rank than her, his parents being Lord Reiolas and Lady Erduen, who were healers, second only to Lord Elrond, while Eruanne's father only was a smith in Rivendell's forges and her mother used to be lady-in-waiting. Also he held the privilege of age over her head many times, for her had one hundred and sixty-some more years than she, and these two things together made for an infuriating combination. Closing her eyes then opening them with an intake of breath, she let her body hang limp and free, letting go of her angry, but she couldn't do it, her fists where still white-knuckled and her ring cut into the palm of her hand. She was not done with them yet.  
  
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'Insufferable man!, I believe we have the most selfish, conceited man right here in Rivendell! Not only is he rude to elves, his own people, but to animals too! That is not how the Ilúvatar created us to be.' She stared down at the cloth she was using Eruanne was down on her knees, scrubbing of the red tea stain from her floor. Her hands worked furiously on the golden wood, pausing only once to admire the sunset's light that crept through her window. Tucking her dark brown hair behind her ears she began to bend down on her complaining knees when she heard a faint noise, one undetectable to human ears.  
  
Eruanne jumped to the side of the wood paneled wall, listening over her fast breathing. Her heart raced within her chest and fear prickled along the surface of her skin, giving her a sensation of a white-hot flash of light.  
  
Slowly her hands crept to the carven table where a candle stood in its simple black iron holder, Eruanne then drew out a flint and steel from her breeches pocket and lit the wick. It was more for comfort than anything, for her eyes were already well accustomed to the dark. Placing the burning column of wax next to her she resumed her cleaning of a careless mistake.  
  
'Silly elf' she thought to herself as her hands rhythmically rubbed at the redness, 'it was probably just the wind against the hay, or the horses. You are in Rivendell, what do you think could hurt you here?' Her inner self snorted mentally at her body's foolishness. 'How many times have I told you that you are too much like a horse yourself, getting scared over every sound that is unfamiliar to your ears?' She sighed, and reached for a leather-bound book on the table, hands molding over the familiar contours.  
  
"Milady?" She frowned, no one in their right mind would address a woman clothed in a tunic and breeches, sitting on a floor, and face smudged with dirt a lady. Unless they had their eyes closed.  
  
"What?" Eruanne snapped impatiently, without looking up. Callused hands sweeping the hair away from her tanned face she exhaled loudly. Durien had not put in her in an ebullient mood.  
  
"I was wondering which stall you would." The voice trailed off for a split second. Only one stall was empty, reserved for Prince Legolas and here was this stranger asking about the stall. 'Eruanne,' the voice within her answered, 'it is Prince Legolas than, don't be so thick-headed.' "..sorry to bother you this late," the voice once again began to register ears.  
  
"Of course," Eruanne began to walk towards him and caught a glimmer of gold from the corner of her eye, "Your Highness." Passing through the door that led to the stalls she dared one look up into his face.  
  
She could now see why all the maidens giggled like little elfings, no matter how many springs they had seen, when Prince Legolas' name was mentioned.  
  
His sapphire blue eyes caught the candle flame and held it there, entrancing the viewer onwards, but their gaze was immediately caught up in the shower of gold that fell from his scalp to well below his shoulders, framing high, delicate cheekbones and pale pink lips.  
  
He cleared his throat rather nosily and Eruanne realized she had been staring. Heat burned in her cheeks and an uncomfortable sensation rose in her gut, "Of course," she mumbled, 'Walk, just try to walk you idiot!' She screamed at her legs and finally her brain registered and as her head turned to the darkness of the stable she moved away from him. The farther she got from Legolas the less effect he had on her brain and she began to think clearly.  
  
'Why? Why did you act like such a staring maiden, one that knows neither wisdom nor years? Why couldn't you have been polite and friendly?' She groaned inwardly, 'Why not act sensibly for once? Become his friend, if you can. There is no way he could have a romantic interest in you, or ever will have.'  
  
'I know, I know,' the other side of her head replied, 'but there's always a chance right? What if he does fall in love with me, he is the Prince of Mirkwood, and he could marry whoever he wan-'  
  
'Exactly. He is the Prince of Mirkwood and he needs to marry for the betterment of his kingdom, besides if he could marry anyone he wanted it would most certainly not be you.'  
  
'There is always a chance,' the more romantic and fantastical side of Eruanne argued.  
  
'Well, right now lets just get his horse into the stall without acting like a complete fool, we can discuss this later!' And with that thought the mental conference in Eruanne's head ended.  
  
"Which one is yours, milord?" Eruanne asked when she came out into the small grassy yard in front of the impressive stable building.  
  
"The bay," he said briefly and whistled. The horse in question came trotting up, bowing its head up and down. Legolas caught its head with a gentle hand and brought its face level with theirs, stroking its mahogany coat. "His name is Tol-Ereb."  
  
"Lost Isle." Eruanne could find nothing more to say; sadness tore at her heart. The name was from an elvish song about leaving for Valinor. The sadness redoubled and for a moment her heart ached in what was almost physical pain.  
  
Elves have come to the world ages ago, when Ilúvatar first created them. He lavished upon them many gifts; beauty, music, wine, foods, and immortal life. But when time has spent enough years upon Middle Earth, they will pay their dues. Elves will leave Middle Earth, setting sail for Valinor. They see their passing as natural as wind on the mountain, or rain in the meadow. Yet they feel despair as they watch the buildings they have shaped crumble to dust and they themselves are forgotten. Hearts will ache as they watch the dawn rise for men and set for elves in the West.  
  
Her eyes slid over to Legolas's form. He too, seemed to feel the sadness that she felt, for his eyes where downcast and his posture not as rigid as it was the moment before.  
  
"Why, Your Highness, did you choose that name?"  
  
"It reminds me of my mother." Legolas said shortly. "She used to sing to me that song when I was little to calm me, and when I came of age, she sang it once more to remind me that elves are a passing fate to this world."  
  
Eruanne mediated on those words for a moment. "That we are," she murmured.  
  
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Authors Note: Sorry for the downplayed ending, it was kind of hard to know when to stop. The song that he talks about is real, but don't look it up please cause it will play a part in the story. Also the sentence with "the rain on the mountain and wind in the meadow" is largely Tolkien's. Does anyone know how to do italics and bolds?  
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	2. Restless Night

Random: I fixed most of what I could, and I kept her coloration because in the movie both the important Rivendell characters were brown-haired and Elrond even had brown eyes. I am going to go by the movie for visuals because even if the readers have read the books and realize that some details (like Arwen's grey eyes) where not translated correctly, they will probably still picture her with blue eyes like she had in the movie. I also fixed the names.  
  
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Legolas's ears barely caught Eruanne's whispered statement, so quietly did she her lips form the words. He stood there for a moment, in the murky, emerald-colored courtyard, the wind blowing at his hair.  
  
Almost unwillingly his eyes slid over to her unmoving form. Her brown eyes, veiled thickly with dark lashes, stared straight ahead. Her nose, thin and proud was prominent in her face, overshadowing her pale, chapped lips that were set in creamy, unwrinkled skin. Overall her looks were one that bordered on the line between masculinity and femininely, yet one could never mistake her as a male, for she radiated the aura of that which a queen would have. A just queen, one that looked upon her subjects as her children, though they may have seen twice as many summers as her. It was caring, but not condes- His thoughts abruptly stopped when he realized the direction they had taken.  
  
'Why do I feel this way about a maiden that I have just met? I do not even know her name.' He glanced over her. Grey mist was rising from the pond. It seeped over the grasses and trees, winding its thick tendrils around her form, blurring everything else. Before his eyes he watched as everything turned a muted grey, except her. She still stood proud and strong, dressed simply in her working garb. It was if sign from the Valar. 'We are destined greatness,' he thought in his head, nothing romantic or erotic clouding his thoughts. He felt a genuine liking towards this elf, a liking that would feel to a close friend. 'Yes indeed, I see friendship in our future.'  
  
It was all in a heartbeat's time that this came to his mind, and when he blinked again the mysterious fog had risen and his mind stood patiently in the grass, hands on their horses necks.  
  
"My men await your direction," he said with an intake of breath, "Mistress- "  
  
"Vanimedlë." Eruanne did not look at Legolas as she said it, her voice was sharp and flat as a blade, cutting through the air to reach him.  
  
"Ah Mistress Vanimedlë, what would you have my men do then?" He addressed her levelly, eyes focused on hers, not blinking or shifting, just a steady dark gaze upon her face. Eruanne squirmed uncomfortably, feeling an almost physical pressure as he looked upon the planes of her face.  
  
Eruanne cleared her throat, "Follow me." She walked off into the darkness of the stables, the ground littered with golden straw.  
  
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I have walked upon this Earth, this glorious abundance of sights, sounds, tastes and feelings, for thousands of years. Each day, when my eyes open to the morning dawn I feel that could live forever in this same repetition, entrancing in its monotony and safeness but part of me yearns for an adventure. Part of my heart tells me that when the Valar created us Elves, with our beauty and wisdom he did not mean for it to be spent in our own enclosures, sheltered from the eyes of the world. Nay, he meant for us to go forth, and become one with the people that create the world that we rejoice in.  
  
Eruanne rested her back against the plain wood headboard of her bed. In her arms was a leather-bound book. Her journal. She had unbound her dark hair, and it now flowed down her decorated sleeping clothes. So much had happened today and her mind needed time to mull it over, otherwise it would not let her body go to sleep.  
  
Shrugging into the day's clothes as silently as she could, she walked to the door, pinning up half of her hair in the process. Slowly edging her head out of the doorway, she looked to see if anyone was walking down the marble halls.  
  
When minutes had passed and she could here no rustle of fabric that signaled another elf she glided through the hallway, past the Cutlery Entrance to the labyrinth-like kitchen and out the door that led to the Stable Gardens.  
  
The elaborate, yet rigidly controlled gardens, spread out before her like a flowering blanket. Against the sky the trees sat in stark relief, their branches gloomily in the darkness that had befallen their limbs and leaves. The pale sky beyond then was a haunting blue; drifting into black the farther overhead you went.  
  
She walked slowly among the flower stems that reached over the natural stone paths. At last her fingers found the familiar wood gate that was the lesser known of the two entrances to the stable.  
  
Her footsteps could not be heard as she walked through the hall of the stables, for her feet were shod in lithe, suede, riding boots. Her sensitive ears picked up every snort, intake and outtake of breath and hoof scraping against the wood or stone. The stables and the pastures were her sanctuary. The smell of horses was like perfume; it was the smell of her home.  
  
She rested on a straying bale of hay for a moment, feeling the smooth shafts beneath her legs and betwixt her fingers. They grasped a single straw, holding it up to one of the many candles that sat brackets around the stables, its shaft glimmered like a piece of gold, its texture translucent to the burning flame. Her soft brown eyes looked at the straw.  
  
Pushing of the rough-hewn planks of the floor, she stood up. As if feeling her presence one by one the horses in the stalls each poked their heads out. First came their velvety ears and nose, followed by large soft eyes and a silky waterfall mane.  
  
"Losto mae, avo 'osto." She whispered to the row of horses, her white fingers scratched the closest one's neck. It tossed its head playfully, whickering. Her hand stopped on its cheek. "Losto mae," she repeated and it nodded once in a kind of understanding.  
  
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Her path was leading her to the faraway green velvet of the upper pastures. Her soft feet navigated the twisting turns on the carved path up the cliff, it was a path that she had taken to her heart, so many days had she walked upon it.  
  
"Luithan." She called to the seemingly empty pasture, as the wind wound devious fingers through her hair, taking her ribbon with her. "Nae," She cried as her hair unbound to blow free in the winds gentle caress, it soften in the harsh curves of her face, as the moonlight bleached the tan skin to a soft silver. And as she mounted the small white mare that had come to her, it looked like she had discarded the elf that she had been this past day and become someone worlds away.  
  
In some ways of the world, she was. Her body was one of a seemingly different form, though it was still the same flesh and bone that she had been blessed with, her mind was a clearer one, almost more primitive. Her thoughts were not filled with wars, orcs and princes, but the scent of horses, the dark and refreshing wind and long swaying grass. Things closer to her true self, and so she would have stayed in that pasture, gazing over the buildings of Rivendell till the sun rose once again if it had not been for-  
  
"We meet again Mistress Vanimedlë," He said, tucking his silver-blond hair behind his pointed ears. Behind him was Tol-Ereb, pushing his nose into the hollow at the base of his neck. Legolas turned briefly, and spoke quietly to his great red-brown steed. When he looked back, he saw to his dismay that Eruanne had mounted on her mare, and was already walking slowly away through the blowing grass.  
  
In a swift movement, he swung himself up upon the warm back of the stallion. His hands slid themselves through the hairs of its mane. "Ahead," he whispered.  
  
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Eruanne looked back, Legolas was astride and cantering towards her. Somehow this was wrong, they were only two elves on horseback in the middle of Rivendell's lands. She had shared the pasture before with other restless elves, yet this time it was different. It had never felt like she was at war. *  
  
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* Authors Note: Her horse's name means Enchanted. 


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